


They Used To Be Best Friends, But Then They Got All Stupid. Can You Promise Me You Won't Get All Stupid?

by VenomQuill



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Relativity Falls, Gen, I'm trying to find reasons to like Filbrick but it's not working out, In a different time Fiddleford uses this bird to get into WCT with Stanford, M/M, Stanford and Stanley have issues they need to talk out, history likes to repeat itself, hug it out!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 22:59:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: Not stupider than you, Dum-dum.dA: http://fav.me/dbgtb8u





	They Used To Be Best Friends, But Then They Got All Stupid. Can You Promise Me You Won't Get All Stupid?

The light afternoon brought warmth to the otherwise chilly valley. Most of the trees had lost their beautiful leaves, though the evergreens did not change. Snow from last night’s flurry dappled the ground and buildings. Mabel sat out on the couch on the porch, head tipped back and eyes closed. Dipper sat next to her, two cups of hot cocoa in his hands. He looked over at his half-asleep sister and held one out. “Did you stay up after I told you to go to bed, Mabel?”

Mabel opened one eye and raised her head. She gladly took the beverage. “No, no. I went to sleep. I’m fine, Dippy-dog.” She contradicted her own words with a yawn. “I’m tired is all. The sun’s so nice out today. What time is it?”

“Six or so,” Dipper answered with a quick glance at his watch. “If you’re waiting on Fiddleford, he has homework to do.”

“I know he does!” Mabel defended. “I’m not waiting for him.”

“You’re waiting for Stanley and Stanford,” Dipper accused.

Mabel shrugged. “Okay, okay. Maybe. I might have sent a few sweaters in the mail.”

“They’re visiting us for the winter holidays, Marbles! Save some for then.” Dipper scrunched up his nose at Mabel and chuckled.

“Oh? What do you plan on getting them? A box to hold their new D&D&D game?” Mabel teased.

“Oh, nothing like that.” Dipper waved his hand. “He probably already has that. I was thinking a new pair of boxing gloves for Stanley and some classics from the library for Stanford.”

_Briiiiing! Briiiiing!_

Mabel picked up her phone in an instant. “Hey! It’s Mabelcorn. What’s up?”

 _“Hey, Mabel.”_ Stanley’s downtrodden voice came from the other speaker.

“Lee! What’s wrong?” Mabel leaned forward so she was sitting relatively straight.

Stanley took a deep breath. _“Is it okay if I stay with you and Grunkle Dipper for a while?”_

“Oh of course. You are _always_ welcome at our house,” Mabel answered in an instant. Dipper gave her a confused look. She went on, “But Lee… can I ask what happened?”

Stanley took a shaky breath. _“I… I’m not allowed in the house anymore.”_

“You’re not _what?_ ”

 _“Dad kicked me out,”_ Stanley muttered. _“I just need a place to stay.”_

“…is there a friend’s house you can stay at?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. “Let us come get you.”

 _“I-I don’t really_ have _any friends here,”_ Stanley stated.

“Okay, then. Rent a hotel room. Do you still have my card?” Grauntie Mabel prompted and stood up.

_“Yeah. Look, you don’t have to come over here…”_

“I most certainly do! Stanley, you’re not even out of high school, yet! Look, Dip and I are going to go transfer some money onto the card. You stay at whatever hotel you want. We’ll be there as soon as we can- two days, tops.”

Stanley sighed. _“Yeah. Thanks, Grauntie Mabel. Love you.”_

“I love you, too, Hun-bun. It’s late there. Get some sleep, okay?”

_“Okay, okay. Tell Grunkle Dipper I said bye and ’love him.”_

“Stanley says he loves you,” Grauntie Mabel threw the words over her shoulder.

Dipper stood up. “I love him, too.”

“He loves you, too- very much. Good night, Hun-bun. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

 _“Good night, Grauntie Mabel,”_ Stanley muttered. The phone went dead.

“Dipper, we’re going to New Jersey,” Grauntie Mabel stated. Her tone took a very sharp, very cold turn as soon as Stanley couldn’t hear her. “Let’s get to the store first.” She nodded to their baby blue car and sped-walked toward it.

“What happened?” Dipper prompted as they walked.

“MRS. PINES! DR. PINES!” Fiddleford’s howling stopped them. Fiddleford nearly tripped over himself running to them. When he stopped, he put two hands on his knees and attempted to speak. All that came out was a wheeze.

Dipper set a hand on his shoulder. “Deep breaths, son.”

Fiddleford nodded and gulped for air. “F-Ford and Lee got in a really big f-fight. Filbrick th-threw Lee out of the house.”

Dipper’s eyebrows knitted together. “Why would he do that?”

“Ford said Lee destroyed his science fair project, caused him to lose his dream school,” Fiddleford gasped. “B-but Ah don’t know if Ah believe that. Ah love ’im, Ah really do, but when he gets upset, things can get kinda skewed.”

“That’s him,” Mabel sighed. “We’re going to give Stanley some money to get a hotel room and then we’re driving to his house. I want this conversation to be in person.”

“You got it, Mrs. Pines. Can Ah come with you? Ah want to talk to Ford and Lee. Ah-Ah can’t let you drive in the dark, either,” Fiddleford offered.

“You’re a kind man, Fiddleford. Thank you.” Mabel started to open the door to her baby blue, sticker speckled car, but hesitated. “Nope. This car won’t work. This is job for the PinesMobile.” With that, she ran into the house. Dipper led Fiddleford around to the side of the house, where they found the large, pink and blue RV. Fiddleford took driver’s seat and took the keys as soon as Mabel found them. Dipper stayed by him in the passenger seat while Mabel was farther into the vehicle.

Their first stop didn’t take too long. Not many people were at the bank at this hour, anyway. As they drove, Mabel typed in Stanford’s number. “Hello?” Stanford’s voice came in through the receiver. It was dry, tired.

“Hello, Stanford,” Mabel stated. She was quite aware she hadn’t lost her barb. “What’s going on?”

She heard a groan on the other side. “I’ve already told Fidds. Why don’t you ask–?”

“Because I’m asking you,” Mabel cut in. Stanford didn’t immediately speak. “I asked you, not Fiddleford. _What’s happening?_ ”

“Erg. Stanley sabotaged my science fair project. That was supposed to be my key into West Coast Tech!” Stanford ranted. “Then he pretended like it wasn’t his fault! He thought everything was fine! He thought that we could still go sailing around the world or whatever.”

“Why would he sabotage your project?” Mabel prompted.

“He’s jealous,” Stanford huffed. “I said that if West Coast Tech accepted me, then I’d have to move across the country. He just couldn’t handle me leaving!”

“That’s some very hard accusations,” Mabel stated lightly. “Where’s your brother? I’d like to hear his side of the story, too.”

“His side is dumb. I just told you what it was,” Stanford replied dryly.

“Where’s your brother?”

“I don’t know. He ran off,” Stanford grumbled.

Mabel set a hand on the receiver and took a deep, shaky breath. When she removed her hand, her voice was not dagger sharp. “What about your father?”

“He’s still here,” Stanford replied. “Oh, what? Do you want to talk to him, too?”

“Please, Stanford, don’t talk like that,” Grauntie Mabel sighed.

“I’ve got to go. Bye.” The phone hung up.

Grauntie Mabel put her phone away. “Fiddle? How were you able to talk to him in _that_ mood?”

“Not easily,” Fiddleford stated in a brisk voice. “It took a bit of persuasion… and a bit of arguing. But he trusts me.”

“Well that’s good. Dipper, I don’t want you getting prickly. Leave the gun in the RV.”

“I won’t shoot him, Mabel,” Dipper scoffed and drank the last of the hot cocoa.

“You once almost shot Wendy because she spooked you.”

“She was definitely charging me,” Dipper countered.

“Either way, you’re jumpy. Filbrick’s a big guy. Leave the gun in the RV. Why would you need it, anyway?” Mabel prompted.

“It makes me feel safer,” Dipper answered in a brisk tone.

“Well I’ll keep my attack glitter on me. That’ll be enough for the both of us,” Mabel compromised.

Dipper chuckled and sighed. “Alright, fine. But promise me you’ll glitter his face at least once.”

“I… want to not promise that,” Mabel stated. “I know he’s our nephew, but… Tyrone is such a great man! How could his son be like _this?_ ”

Dipper sighed. “The son doesn’t have to be like the father, Mabel.”

“You got that right,” Mabel muttered.

 

It took just about a day and a half of constant driving. The only breaks were for gas despite the fact that the RV, being as fuel efficient as the geniuses that modified it was, only needed one stop. Thus, most stops were for bathroom, switching seats, and food. Fiddleford drove most of the night while Dipper slept and Mabel kept Fiddleford awake. Fiddleford switched with Dipper near to morning. After a brief phone call with Stanley to make sure he was alright, Mabel slept while Fiddleford kept Dipper awake. Then it rotated to Mabel being awake while both of the men slept. She only needed to do this for a few hours before they arrived in New Jersey.

“Okay, wake up. We’re nearly there,” Mabel announced. Dipper, in the front seat, sat up straight. Fiddleford jumped and looked about.

Fiddleford yawned. “Thank goodness. I hope Ford’s settled down by now.”

“Hopefully,” Mabel agreed. She slowed in a hotel parking lot. “Let’s go pick up Lee.”

They found Stanley in a small room in the second story. When Mabel knocked, she heard a scuffle from inside. A few moments later, the door opened. A very disheveled, depressed Stanley stood at the door. He looked at them in surprise. “Grauntie Mabel? Grunkle Dipper? Wait… Fiddleford?”

Grauntie Mabel made a sad whimpering noise and hugged him. “Oh, my goodness! Stanley, you look absolutely awful! Come on, you need a shower and a proper breakfast.”

“Thanks, Grauntie,” Stanley huffed and slunk to the bathroom. He picked up a bag as he went.

“Dipper? Could you go grab some eggs, bacon, and orange juice from the store?” Mabel prompted.

“As long as I don’t have to cook,” Dipper compromised and left.

“What should I do, Mrs. Pines?” Fiddleford prompted and shut the door.

“Just wait here,” Grauntie Mabel answered as she walked into the kitchen. “Once Stanley’s out of the shower, we’ll have to take it easy. Do you mind making the bed?”

“Yes. Er- I will.” Fiddleford ran up to the ruffled twin-size bed and smoothed it out.

Grauntie Mabel shuffled through the pantries. “Oh, what did that poor boy eat? There’s nothing here! Thank goodness I sent Dipper out to get some breakfast. Where’s the- oh, good! At least there’s a pan and some plates.” She busied herself in washing off four plates, cups, and sets of silverwares as well as the singular pan and spatula. She could hear the water running in the bathroom. It would take a few minutes for Dipper to grab the groceries. Still, Mabel theorized Dipper would be back before Stanley left the shower. She saw Fiddleford in the corner of her eye. He sat awkwardly at the table for a few moments before he got up and started looking over the electronics that were kept. He’d mumble something to himself after looking over each one.

Eventually, Dipper came back, groceries in tow. Mabel immediately went to work frying up breakfast. Dipper sat down at the table and set Fiddleford’s toolbelt down. Fiddleford wrapped it around his waist and started tinkering with stuff around the apartment. Stanley dragged himself out of the bathroom. He was clean, at least, and had brushed his hair and tidied his clothes. Fiddleford finished up his tinkering with the desk lamp and ran to his side. The two sat down at the table so that the only empty seat was between Stanley and Dipper.

Mabel flipped the eggs and absurd amount of bacon onto two plates and, with Dipper’s help, brought the two serving plates and pitcher of orange juice to the table. “Have some breakfast, Hun-bun. You look hungry.”

Stanley shook his head. “Thanks, Grauntie, but I don’t think I can eat.”

“This is bacon we’re talking about!” Mabel pointed out. “You love bacon! …at least a little bit. Please?”

“Don’t you hate bacon?” Stanley prompted.

Mabel nodded. “I do, but, uh… just don’t tell Waddles about breakfast, okay?”

Stanley attempted a smile, but failed. Instead, he poured himself a cup of orange juice and played with breakfast. Breakfast was oddly silent. Mabel was so used to having so much noise at meals with Stanley in it. It was… heartbreaking to think of anything different. She smiled as Stanley’s hunger overtook everything else and he ate three eggs and five pieces of bacon as well as two cups of orange juice.

Fiddleford laughed, “You’ve still got a mighty big appetite, Lee!”

Stanley smiled. “You don’t eat anything, Tiny! Have you grown up at all?”

“Not one bit, it seems,” Fiddleford scoffed. “Why do you get to be so big and good lookin’?”

Stanley shrugged and smirked. “I guess it’s just how it’s meant to be. I’m the big tough guy and you two are… the nerdy little…” His smirk left him in an instant.

“What happened, Stanley?” Mabel prompted. “I want to hear it from you.”

Stanley sighed. “Well, Ford was going to go to some fancy college on the other side of the country. The principal was talkin’ about how I’d have to stay here forever an’… and I got a bit jealous. But I never meant to hurt his project!” Stanley corrected himself quickly. “It was an accident! I hit the table and I guess something broke. But I put the little metal thing back where it was supposed to go. I didn’t mean to break it!” He put his head in his hands. “Now Ford hates me and Dad kicked me out. It’s my fault. I screwed up. I was stupid like usual. God.”

Mabel took a deep breath. “Stanley, it’s been two days. You two need to talk. You’re not a dumb kid, Stanley.”

“He won’t talk to me. I’ve tried calling him. He won’t answer.”

“We’ll make sure you two get to talk it out,” Mabel comforted. “Dipper, Fiddle, and I will be there. If you can’t go back there, then you can finish school in Gravity Falls and live with us for as long as you need. But promise me something, Stanley: you _will_ talk to your brother about this. You’ll talk it over with him, no matter how painful it is.”

Stanley nodded. “I promise, Grauntie.”

Mabel smiled. “That’s my little Lee! Come on. Wash up! You don’t want bacon bits stuck in your teeth when we get there!”

“Okay, okay!” Stanley stood up and gave her a sad, grateful smile before excusing himself to the bathroom again.

“Let me lend you a hand, Mrs. Pines.” Fiddleford helped gather up the dirty dishes and brought them to the sink.

“Thank you, Fiddleford. You’re a real treat to have around, you know that?” Grauntie Mabel chuckled and washed out the dishes.

Fiddleford made sure the food was put away and the trash thrown out. “Thanks, Mrs. Pines.”

“Now, what were you doing to that poor desk lamp, anyway?”

“It was sad! It needed a bit a tinkerin’,” Fiddleford defended. “It needs a better light. If I had a few more spare parts, I could fix it up better than new.”

Eventually, Stanley switched out with Fiddleford, who then left the bathroom open for Dipper. Mabel was last to go after she put up the cleaned and dried dishes. Then, Mabel got in the driver’s seat with Dipper as the passenger. Stanley’s tentative smile left them as they drove down the road back to “ _Pine’s Pawns_ ”, their store and home.

Once Mabel parked, she shot a meaningful glance at Dipper. Dipper sighed and set his ray gun on the table before getting out. Stanley watched the action with wide eyes before Fiddleford led him out onto the street. Mabel put on a sweet smile, squared her shoulders, and knocked on the door. After a minute or so, and another knock, the door opened. Filbrick stood at the door. Stanley couldn’t hide behind Fiddleford. They couldn’t see Filbrick’s eyes behind his glasses. “Mabel?”

“Filbrick,” Mabel agreed, a smile too wide to portray any happiness spread across her features. Her voice was too sweet. “My oldest nephew! It’s a lovely day today, don’t you think?”

“What do you want?”

“Gruff as ever,” Mabel breathed, though she didn’t lose her smile. She saw Stanley’s mother come up behind Filbrick. “Well, I assume you already know why we’re here. We found your son. Fordsy said he ran off after they had a spat. So, we found him. Don’t worry, he’s safe and sound.”

Dipper cut in, “And we want to know why he was thrown out.”

“Dipper! Have some class!” Mabel scolded.

“Mabel, we can’t stand here all day. We have things to do,” Dipper countered. “Why was Stanley trying to sleep in the car instead of his bed, Filbrick?”

“Look, that boy broke Stanford’s machine and cost us potential millions!” Filbrick hissed. “He’s not allowed in this household until he can make that up.”

“So, you’re saying that your son is only worth what he can make?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. “Look, he made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. But–”

“He went too far!” Filbrick countered. “He’s a liar and cheat and all he does is mooch off Stanford. I’ve had enough. He can live on his own for all I care.” He attempted to slam the door shut.

Mabel planted her hand on the door and shoved it open. The tension between two forces, both of great strength, caused the door to lose some of its integrity. “Filbrick Pines!” Mabel snapped. “Don’t you _dare_ shut this door on me!” She took a deep breath to calm her tone. She was acutely aware of Stanford standing in the shop a few feet away from his parents. One six-fingered hand still hung on the door handle. Filbrick tensed but didn’t shut the door again. Even if he tried, the old lady nearly a foot shorter than him wasn’t as weak as she looked.

Mabel went on, “Now you listen here: you have three gorgeous, brilliant, big-hearted boys, Filbrick. It breaks my heart to see just one of them sad. They have beautiful minds and every ability to do anything they ever wanted. They love each other quite a bit. I know _neither_ of them would ever do anything to crush the dreams of the other.” Stanford looked away.

“That boy cost Stanford the best school in the country!” Filbrick crossed. “They’re nearly adults, Mabel. You can’t mother them forever.”

Mabel scrunched her nose. Dipper turned his full attention on Mabel. “Maybe I need to mother them because they seem to only have one parent taking care of them.” She cleared her throat. “Look, this story doesn’t make sense. Stanley would never willingly break anything of Stanford’s. No matter what he felt, he’d never hurt Stanford like that. I know that he doesn’t act like it, but Stanford knows that. He’s a very smart boy, but you’re just treating him like the one-purpose genius everyone else does. You don’t even consider anything else do you? Stanford’s a smart boy, but he does get hurt. It’s not just Stanley you’re hurting here.”

“You weren’t here! You were on the other side of the country when he sabotaged Stanford’s work!” Filbrick snapped back.

“I know for a fact Stanley didn’t sabotage anyone. You want to know why?” Mabel prompted. She continued before anyone had the chance to answer. “I made sure Lee and Ford both knew my mistake and both of them would learn from it. No matter what anyone thinks, Stanley’s a brilliant young man. He might not be a scientist like my or his brother, but he’s a sweet-heart with a good head. If _you_ weren’t smothering him so much and you got your head out of your ass, you’d know this!”

The argument continued to go back and forth. Although Mabel struggled to keep her voice at a relatively low level, even she didn’t have the unearthly patience required to deal with her oldest nephew. Their argument turned into a shouting match. If Filbrick was surprised by Mabel’s anger, he didn’t show it. That didn’t mean everyone else had that sort of nerve. The boys, unsettled, turned to Dipper. But when they found even he was unnerved by his sister’s fury, their own emotions, whether it be depression, petulance, or worry, turned into concern and _fear._ Even their mother clutched Sherman tighter. Mabel didn’t look at anyone but Filbrick. She couldn’t hear Fiddleford hyperventilating or see Stanford’s fear. Dipper attempted to raise his hand, but recoiled and closed it.

Eventually, Filbrick managed to cross a line no one else in her life would dare look at. “You can’t replace your own failed daughter with my sons.”

It was then that Mabel snapped.

Dipper grabbed her from behind and pulled her back. But the damage had been done. Filbrick took a few steps back and held a hand over his heavily bleeding nose. His fingers pushed his glasses, which now sported a cracked lens, up. He let go of the door.

“Mabel, calm down! He’s had enough!” Dipper shouted.

Mabel shoved Dipper away from her. Dipper might have been a man who traveled countless dimensions through thirty years of life and battled a dream demon, twice, but there was no strength in the world to counter a black-belt woman who lifted over a hundred pounds at least once or twice daily and with adrenaline born of a mother’s hate coursing through her. She put a finger on Filbrick’s chest. His wife recoiled from her presence. “I don’t want to see your ugly face again, do you hear me? I will not _rest_ until your neglect and abuse has _ended._ My great nephews and my brother mean the world to me. It’s a sad day when their own father doesn’t feel the same way.” With that, she spun around and stalked off to the PinesMobile.

Dipper cut in, “Stanford, I know exactly what you’re doing and how you feel.” Dipper’s voice was flat and his features were turned into a cold glare. “Nearly forty years ago, Mabel did the _exact same thing_ to me- down to the temper tantrum and the down to the sloppy apology that sounded like an offer. I thought it was sabotage, too. After I let Dad throw her out, I thought I’d been getting rid of her for a good reason. You, too, I expect. You decide to throw your twin out because they were obviously the reason you failed. But it didn’t do me good and it won’t do you good. You’ll find out that you need each other. You’ve been there for each other all your lives. You may not feel it now, you may not feel it in a year or ten years or thirty from now, but condemning your life-long friend who’s always got your back to a loneliness you couldn’t imagine will catch up with you. It may not destroy the world like my mistakes did, but it will bring about destruction. I just hope you don’t have to live through what Mabel and I did. And make sure your father doesn’t speak to me. Because I’m not above shooting him. Don’t test me.” He didn’t take his cool gaze away from Stanford. Stans’ father stared at him as if debating whether or not to challenge him- or call the police, for that matter. Stanley tried to speak, but he couldn’t meet his father’s gaze.

Dipper turned around and set a hand on Stanley’s shoulder. “I’m sorry it ended up this way, son. I wish I listened to Mabel while we all had the chance when you were thirteen.”

When they got into the RV, they found Mabel sitting in the very back. Her hands were clasped tight together. She took deep, heavy breaths. When she spotted Stanley a few feet away, she shut her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Hun-bun. I was hoping you wouldn’t have to see that.”

Stanley shook his head, sat down, and hugged her. “Thank you, Grauntie.”

Mabel closed her eyes. “I love you, Hun-bun. Let’s rest up for a bit. Everyone’s a bit tired.”

 

They went directly back to the hotel after that. When they did, Fiddleford talked with Stanley. Mabel took out her laptop, modified greatly by her future nephew-in-law, and reviewed Stanley’s transcript. Dipper sat down next to her. “Want me to do that, Marbles? You need to get some sleep.”

Mabel yawned. “You know what? Sleep sounds nice.” She handed the laptop to him and shifted in her seat. It wasn’t easy, but eventually, she fell asleep.

 

When she woke, she found a blanket over her shoulders. Dipper drank some orange juice and went back to fiddling with something on his own computer. “What time is it, Dippy dog?”

“Noon,” Dipper answered.

“Let’s get some lunch,” Mabel decided and stood up. The boys looked up at her as did Dipper. “Grab a bite to eat. Stanley, why don’t you show us some good spots to eat?”

 

They didn’t go anywhere fancy for lunch- just a 50’s themed burger joint. When they got to the hotel, Grauntie Mabel went to knitting a sweater, Dipper continued working on something on his laptop, and Stanley and Fiddleford studied. She glanced down at the boys. Stanley concentrated on Fiddleford and whatever he was saying with great focus. She smiled and went back to her knitting.

Dinner consisted of tacos. Stanley gave up the bed for Mabel and Dipper, who gave it to Mabel.

 

That night, as they fell asleep, Mabel heard the window open. Mabel opened her eyes. Dipper was instantly awake with one eye open. Fiddleford held something out. It fluttered out of his hand. He sat down by the window and put on what looked like a VR headset and earbuds.

Fiddleford guided the robot hummingbird. Its head turned as Fiddleford’s head turned as if they were the same entity. He didn’t need controllers to move the camera, though the buttons on his remote controller would allow that if necessary. Fiddleford could hear what was happening around the hummingbird and see what it “saw”. As it flew, the camera sensors expanded and lost a few sheaths so that they were more light sensitive. Still, it wasn’t enough. So, the little bird let out a chirp at a pitch so high, human ears couldn’t detect it. The objects around him, including the ground, walls, and occasional fire hydrant and car, flashed as a whole web of bright red squares conformed to the territory. The hummingbird would chirp every few seconds so that he could see where it was going. On occasion, Fiddleford would trade which sensors in the “eyes” would dominate- UV light, color spectrum, heat differences, and even basic night vision. He didn’t stay on any but the night vision for long. The only thing that worked was a combination of the night vision and sonar.

Eventually, the humming bird slowed near “ _Pine’s Pawns_ ”. The hummingbird landed on the window sill of one of the second story windows. The bird scooted forward and then pecked at the window in a specific series of taps and drags of its beak against the glass- a peck for each _dit_ and a drag against the glass for each _dah_. _Dit-dit-dit, dah, dit-dah, dah-dit, dit-dit-dah-dit, dah-dah-dah, dit-dah-dit, dah-dit-dit._ Fiddleford waited a few seconds before repeating the pattern. After the third time he repeated the pattern, the curtains opened. Stanford, bleary-eyed, stared down at the bird.

He held up his hands in sleepy sign language. _“Fiddle, what are you doing here?”_

Fiddleford made the hummingbird robot tap the window again. _“I want to talk.”_

_“It’s ten at night.”_

_“It took Mrs. Pines and Dr. Pines a while to go to sleep.”_

_“So, they’re asleep?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“They’re not going to kill me?”_

_“No. They love you.”_

Stanford sighed. After a few moments of hesitation, he signed, _“Stanley is still there.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Can I talk to him?”_

_“Yes. Wait a moment.”_ The hummingbird froze as Fiddleford put it to sleep. He got up and crept over to where Stanley slept on the floor, just under the couch. He tapped Stanley awake. When Stanley raised his head and looked up, Fiddleford whispered, “Come with me.”

Stanley stared at him for a few moments before pulling himself to his feet as quietly as he could and pulling up a chair by the window. Fiddleford brought out another device that looked like thick pair of tech-goggles and earbuds for Stanley to wear. Fiddleford put his back on. Stanley muttered, “What? What is- oh.” Stanley, his only ability being to see through the hummingbird’s eyes and hear the area around it, stared ahead of him.

Fiddleford’s hummingbird robot pecked the window again in a series of taps and drags. _“Stanley’s here.”_

Stanford yawned and started speaking through his hands. _“Stanley, why?”_

Fiddleford whispered, “Tell me what to say.”

Stanley bit his tongue and then whispered, “I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t thinkin’ right. I got upset, but I tried to fix it.” Fiddleford translated the message to Stanford.

 _“Why didn’t you call and tell me?”_ Stanford prompted.

“I… I don’t know. I was scared this would happen,” Stanley admitted. The hummingbird tapped the window again.

 _“It would not have happened if you would have just told me.”_ Stanford gained an irritated grimace.

“I know,” Stanley muttered. “I was being stupid. I’m sorry.”

_“I’m sorry doesn’t fix this!”_

“What about Grunkle Dipper?” Stanley prompted.

Stanford didn’t answer right away. _“What do you mean?”_

“Grunkle Dipper said he’d apprentice you when we were younger. How about you ask him again?” Stanley suggested. “Apprenticeships can replace college, right?”

Stanford stared at the hummingbird. _“Fiddle? Are you speaking or Stanley?”_

 _“Stanley,”_ Fiddleford answered. _“I’m translating exactly what he’s saying.”_

Stanford took a deep breath and opened the window. _“Stanley, come pick up Fiddleford’s bird. It might be low on batteries.”_

Fiddleford about commented on how the bird was freshly charged and had days left in it, but kept his mouth shut. Stanley grinned. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be right over.”

 _“Don’t think of going through the front door.”_ Stanford picked up a rope and set it on the sill. _“And Fiddleford, turn the bird off until I tell you.”_

 _“Of course, Ford.”_ Fiddleford’s hummingbird returned to its stopped position, which was that of a nesting hummingbird, and turned off. Fiddleford and Stanley both took off their equipment. As soon as Fiddleford put his things down, he wheezed as Stanley wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” Stanley whispered.

Fiddleford smiled and choked, “Anythin’ I can do ta help, Lee.”

“Brother,” Stanley corrected and chuckled. “’Cause if he doesn’t marry you, I will!” With that, Stanley quietly slipped through the door and out into the cold New Jersey night.

 “Hey, Fiddleford.” Grunkle Dipper’s voice appeared behind him. Fiddleford jumped and turned around. Grunkle Dipper and Grauntie Mabel were sitting up.

“Oh! Ah’m sorry, did Ah wake you?” Fiddleford asked.

“Yeah, but it’s okay,” Grauntie Mabel answered with a shrug.

Grunkle Dipper approached Fiddleford and then sat down in Stanley’s seat. “May I see this?”

“Yes, of course.”

Grunkle Dipper flipped the light switch nearby and inspected the wiring. “Did you modify it at all since you last showed me?”

Fiddleford nodded. “I fixed the sonar system and extended its battery life by three hours. I fixed up the system so that the buttons don’t stick and it can communicate faster. Using Morse code can drain the battery a bit faster, though. I’m still looking into it.”

“Well, I’m going to have to look into that bird when you bring it back. Anyway, you were talking about that apprenticeship I offered four years ago.” Grunkle Dipper set the thing down and turned his attention completely on Fiddleford.

“Stanley’s trying to make it up to his brother,” Fiddleford explained. “I didn’t suggest anything. I’m letting him think this through on his own and letting them repair themselves together.”

“Good plan,” Grunkle Dipper agreed. “Giving them a push when they need it, though… I wish I had a friend like you when we were younger.”

Grauntie Mabel called from her bed, “Grenda’s not good at talking and neither is Candy. They just eternally blamed you for everything. So, having this little mechanic would’ve been awesome.”

Fiddleford chuckled. “Ah… thank you. Ah just don’t want them hurt. Ah know Stanford’s angry and he’s actin’ tough, but he loves Stanley. Stanley’s been sayin’ he can’t make it alone, but Stanford couldn’t either.”

Grauntie Mabel chuckled, “Yeah. Those rascals. Oh! When they get back, you mind if I look at the bird, too? It’s so cute!”

Fiddleford nodded. “Actually, I was wonderin’ if ya’d help me paint it. Mrs. Chiu isn’t a painter and I’m not too creative. But you’re good at paintin’ and creatin’ things, right?”

 

A few hours later, Grauntie Mabel had fallen asleep again, despite the light. Fiddleford had brought some spare parts and had fixed and modified nearly every electronic device he could get his hands on- including the light in the ceiling. Grunkle Dipper was on his laptop. The door opened. Two people were at the door, now. Stanley and Stanford walked into the small apartment. A grin as wide as the one he’d held on his thirteenth birthday brightened Stanley features. Stanford, Fiddleford’s little bird cupped in his hands, smiled at his boyfriend. Fiddleford, who was still holding the desk lamp he’d tinkered with, grinned and set down the lamp. “Hey! Stans!”

Grunkle Dipper shut his laptop, a tired smile creeping up over him as well. “Good evening, Stanford, Stanley.”

Grauntie Mabel opened her eyes and then jumped up. “Ahh! Oh my goodness, Ford! Lee! You’re back!”

Stanford held up his hands. “Wh-whoa! I’ve, uh, got Fiddleford’s bird. I, uh–”

The bird unfolded its wings and buzzed a few feet away. Fiddleford, his headset on, watched the scene through the bird. “I’ve got it. Thank ya, Stanford.”

Stanford gave him the look of a man who’d just felt a knife in his back before wheezing as his great aunt hugged the life out of him. This caused everyone else to laugh. “Grauntie Mabel,” Stanford wheezed. “I think you’re breaking something.”

“Only my heart, you little scoundrel! Stanley, you get over here!” Grauntie Mabel let go of Stanford enough to drag Stanley in for a hug. As the Stan twins had grown up quite a bit since their younger teenage years, they could easily push her away. Now, summoning the will to push their great aunt away was a different story.

**Author's Note:**

> Hehe Good night, Stupid.


End file.
